


Dress-Up

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crossdressing, Dress Up, F/M, Lingerie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Mulder wishes Scully still had those white cotton panties from the Pilot.  Scully wishes Mulder would slip into something black and sexy and do some funky poaching.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	1. Granny Panties

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Season 7  
> A/N: Thank you, tumblr, for always being horny.

If she wasn’t so boneless from being freshly and thoroughly fucked, she’d probably be disturbed by the sight of Mulder, back from the bathroom, rifling through her underwear drawer. 

“I don’t think anything in there will fit you,” she says, and the thought of Mulder’s cock straining behind black lace is intriguing enough that she files it away for later. 

“Just checking,” he says, still pawing among her underthings. She wonders if he’ll find the garter belt she bought for the sheer stockings she wears when she needs a little thrill in her day. They look just like her pantyhose, unless her skirt were to ride up and up her thighs to show the lace at the tops. Oddly enough, those are never the days that Mulder does push up her skirt. Maybe she should buy something more obvious. 

“Checking for...?” she asks, rolling over. The comforter slides off her and she doesn’t bother to pull it back up. Mulder’s eyes roam over her, a long-distance caress that makes her nipples tighten and her cunt pulse. 

“I wanted to see if you still had that pair you were wearing in Bellefleur when you wanted me to check your mosquito bites,” he tells her. 

“God, Mulder,” she says. “I replace my underwear more often than every seven years.” She eyes him up. “I’m guessing you don’t.”

He shrugs. “I’ve made some recent alterations to the lineup.”

“You mean since I started seeing your underwear,” she teases. 

“Let’s say in anticipation of you seeing them,” he says. “Can’t put good art in a bad frame.”

She laughs. “Yes, your penis is museum-quality. Put it on display.”

He flashes a grin at her. “Thank you.” He pushes her drawer closed. “I’ll give you a private showing any time.”

“Nothing piqued your interest?” She leans up on one elbow and watches him ogle her breasts as they shift. Mulder, unsurprisingly, is extremely visual. If she opened her legs a little further, he’d follow his own line of sight all the way into the V of her thighs and bury his face in her cunt. It’s a trick she likes to use on a Saturday morning, or a Friday night, or a Sunday afternoon when she gets back from confessing and goes forth and sins some more.

He shrugs, leaning against her dresser. His cock is still limp against his leg, but she likes to imagine she can see the first signs of life returning to it. She has plans for the rest of the day and they involve waking up deliciously sore tomorrow. “I had a very specific fantasy about those panties. So pristine. So high-cut. I wanted to take them off you with my teeth.”

“So dowdy,” she complains. “If you want to fuck my grandmother, I’ll give you her number.”

“You won’t,” he says. “You want me all to yourself.”

She raises one eyebrow and eyeballs him with pointed calculation. “There’s not enough to go around.”

He presses one hand to his heart and cups the other over his groin. “You wound me, Scully.”

She stretches deliberately, letting her thighs fall open. He licks his lips and saunters toward her, plowing down onto the bed and between her legs, just as she predicted. She lets her back arch as his tongue flicks against her clit. Mulder eats pussy like he trained for it at the Olympic level. He’s a gold medalist, the most valuable player. His tongue is an X-File, possibly in some quantum state: everywhere and anywhere, against her, inside her, turning her inside out. She spreads her legs wider, unabashedly begging for more. When Mulder worships at her altar, she ascends to a place beyond shame, a higher plane of existence where all her prayers are answered. By the time she’s calling his name and digging her nails into the broad muscles of his back, he’s hard again, and he shoves her up the bed until she’s sitting against the headboard, pulls her onto his lap, and fucks her until all she can do is hold onto him and sink her teeth into the salt-slick meat of his shoulder. She’s so wet his thighs are slippery with it. He pins her against the cool metal bars of her headboard and she flings her hands out to grab them for support. She pinions herself as he bucks into her, an irresistible force, and when it comes to him, she’s never been an immovable object. He sucks roughly at one nipple and then the other, reaches up to squeeze her tit with fingers still sticky from being inside her. She rises and falls as he thrusts up and up and up into her, her cunt clutching around him with a desperation she rarely allows the rest of herself as she comes what feels like endlessly as he hits the right spots again and again. The whole world goes bright and blurry and there’s nothing but Mulder groaning her name.

“I’ll buy some more granny panties,” she promises, when her brain regains command of language beyond fuck, yes, god, and please. Holy shit, she thinks. She’s never come like that without the help of a vibrator, just one wave of pleasure after another, but Mulder primed her pump, she supposes, with his willing and able tongue.

“Yesss,” he hisses, sprawled panting beside her. God, they’re a mess. She’s going to have to wash her sheets. Maybe she’ll wait until this evening, throw them in the machine while they have dinner. She can deal with a wet spot a little bit longer. She kind of wants to lick the taste of herself off him, even though his cock is softening fast. She crawls down the bed and indulges herself in him, and though it doesn’t last long, the way his hips rise is gratifying. 

“White cotton panties,” she teases him, pillowing her chin on his hip. “Should I get a schoolgirl outfit to go with them?”

“I would come in my pants,” he tells her. “Fuck, Scully, you in one of those little plaid skirts and a white button-up? I’d convert on the spot.”

“Don’t forget the knee socks.” She kisses a path up his belly, licks at his nipples, straddles him and grinds against his pelvis. He slides his fingertips between her clit and his skin and she rubs herself off on him, a quick orgasm that leaves her aching and him slack-jawed. She smiles smugly down at him. 

“Seven years,” she says. “Nobody can ever say you skimp on the foreplay.” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up for,” he tells her, and tugs at her until she basks on his chest. She likes this just as much as the sex: these moments of quiet, feeling their heartbeats slow and synchronize, soaking in the heat of him, all their momentum finally brought to rest.


	2. Lingerie for Lads

It takes her a few days to find what she wants. She doesn’t trust Mulder to be honest about the sizing. He's sizeable enough, in her opinion, but she’s never known a man who wasn’t overly generous in his estimation of his own endowments. She doesn’t want him in anything loose or baggy. She wants to see his dick pressed up against the lace, peeking through the pattern. Fortunately, it’s easy enough to find his hip size from the tag in his trousers. She takes her time choosing, amusing herself by imagining any surveillers getting hot and bothered by her internet searches for men’s lingerie. It has to be just right. Mulder may love to transgress expectations, but this is a more delicate affair than looking foolish in front of their colleagues. Eventually, she finds something that will suit him: taut around those narrow hips, snug over the bulge of his dick. She throws a second pair of panties, satin with lace panels, and some lace-topped stockings onto her order as well, and a garter belt for them. A girl can dream. She takes herself to bed and lets her fingers do the walking as she imagines Mulder, posing for her, those long legs sleek.

The lingerie arrives packaged nicely, in a gift box, with tissue folded around it. She presents it to Mulder by climbing onto his lap as he lounges on her couch, retrieving the box from her coffee table and handing it to him, her robe loose over her bra and panties. 

“What is this?”

“Something more comfortable,” she tells him, and watches his eyes widen. He opens the box, shakes out the tissue, and lets the panties dangle from his fingers. They’re the same material as some of the pairs in her bureau, but very obviously a different shape, a different size. She can feel his interest growing. 

“For me?” he asks.

“For you,” she purrs.

He digs in the box, finds the stockings and the garter belt. “These too? Scully, it’s not even my birthday.” His voice is light and teasing, but she can see the hesitance in his eyes, the desire and the uncertainty. Fucking Phoebe, she thinks. She always blames Phoebe, when Mulder gets spooked in bed, but from the few things Mulder has let slip, Phoebe deserves every ounce of the blame. There’s probably some societal bullshit in there too, but it’s easier to center her scorn on Mulder’s ex. Of course blithe, damaged, too-brilliant young Mulder fell prey to a pretty dark-headed baby sadist. It doesn’t take a psychology degree from Oxford to understand that situation. Fortunately, Mulder once burned is rarely twice shy. It’s part of his charm and part of what gets him into so many dumbass situations. And Scully isn’t about to let Phoebe ruin her good time.

“Wear them and I’ll wear the school girl outfit some time,” she says.

“Deal,” he says immediately. 

“Go put them on,” she tells him.

“Right now?” he asks. 

She nods. “Right fucking now. Please.” She slides off his lap. He disappears into her bedroom. He’s gone for a while. She touches her breasts and imagines him struggling to snap the garters onto the stockings, standing in front of her mirror trying to get his dick situated just right in the pouch of the panties. Finally her door swings open a little. She takes it as an invitation. He’s standing next to her bed, bare except for the nylon and lace. His stockings are clipped up unevenly, as she expected, but he still looks fucking amazing in them. The swirls of his leg hair look like a pattern under the sheer fabric. And his dick, his goddamn gorgeous dick, is half-hard already under the lush roses embroidered on the dark mesh. She drops to her knees in front of him and rubs her cheek against his dick. The lace is softly textured against her skin. She tries to imagine what it feels like on the extra-sensitive head of his dick. Fucking amazing, she hopes. She lips at him through the fabric, needy and demanding. Seeing him like this, feeling him like this, is like finally reaching an itch she’s never been able to scratch. She can’t help herself touching him. For long minutes, she runs her hands down his thighs, tongues the shape of him through the panties, nudges her nose along his scalloped hems. Mulder groans quietly and tangles his fingers in the garters he’s wearing. Scully tugs at his stockings with her teeth just to hear him gasp. When she reaches down to touch herself, she’s soaked through her own panties. 

“Imagine if Skinner saw you in these,” she taunts him, and watches his dick twitch attentively at the thought. “He wouldn’t be able to contain himself.” 

“Jesus,” he mutters. But his dick keeps getting harder and harder until he’s fully erect, his glossy head jostling against the low waistband. She licks at it, tasting the bitterness of pre-ejaculate.

“God, I want you,” she tells him. “I should have gotten you a crotchless pair. You could have just fucked me.”

“I think I can manage,” he says in a raspy voice. She tugs the lace pouch aside and lets him spring free. The fabric veers around the base of his dick, still cupping his balls. Scully pushes herself up and Mulder presses her into the wall. There’s a stepstool there that used to be how Scully got her sweaters off the top shelf of her closet. Now it’s how she gets fucked standing up. She hooks one leg over his hip and he holds it there, his palm broad and warm under her thigh. Mulder doesn’t bother taking her panties off, just pushes them aside like his and plunges into her. Scully can feel the lace rubbing between them, an almost-painful friction that only adds to her pleasure somehow, even when it catches and tugs at the curls between her legs. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, pushes her fingers into his hair, nips at his neck and his earlobes until he growls and pulls away to nuzzle aggressively at her breasts. She’s so wet he just slides out of her and she steps down and pushes him backward, onto the bed. Yes, goddammit, she wants to get fucked, but she can’t see him from here in all his glory. He sprawls, all nylon-sleek leg and abs, and she crawls between his legs and takes him into her mouth. He’s slick and tangy, flavored by her cunt, and she licks every trace of herself off him with satisfaction. This is better. This way she can see the way the long muscles of his thighs tense under the taut strain of the garters. She can run her fingertips over the lace that cradles his balls. She can see the lovely contrast between the delicate dark fabric and his olive-tinged skin. 

He’s close. She can tell by the way he’s hard all over, firm under her hands and her tongue. But he tugs her hair carefully, pulling her away. 

“I want to come inside you,” he tells her, and fuck, it shouldn’t make her hot all over to hear it, but it does. Even if nothing will happen, there’s something visceral and possessive about it, feeling the warm spurt of him, the trickle of it down her leg after.

“I want to see you,” she says, and she’s sure she looks crazed. 

“The mirror,” he says, and jerks his chin toward it. She rolls off the bed and he follows, bringing her little stepstool. She gets onto it and bends over, bracing her hands on the wall on either side of the mirror. He pushes her panties aside again and teases her clit with the fingertips of one hand, his other hand cupped over her breast, his thumb rubbing through the thin fabric of her bra. She can see him behind her, gorgeous in his lingerie, his eyes hazy as he watches her. 

“Just fuck me,” she says, shivering as his fingers bracket her clit and squeeze. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, and pushes back into her. She almost squeals. She can see herself in the mirror, eyes wide, mouth open, skin flushed as he takes her. She can see him, pretty as a fucking picture, all his attention focused on her. 

She comes so hard she sees stars. Her knees go weak and wobbly and she almost falls off her step. Mulder groans and catches her, his arms wrapped under her breasts and around her belly, but he’s too close to stop. Scully pushes back against him as hard as she can and she can feel the heat of it when he comes, shuddering into her still-pulsing cunt. Something primal inside her craves this; she feels smugly satisfied, her cunt full and heavy. 

“Fuck,” he says, and picks her up like a bride, carrying her to the bed and laying her down. He stretches out next to her, breathing hard. 

“I’m gonna get you a red pair too,” she mumbles. 

“And some white ones for our wedding night,” he teases. “Although you can take my garter off with your teeth any day.” 

“I fucking will,” she says, her cunt clutching again at the thought of marrying him, of claiming him as her own with something more than love bites. 

“I’ll be your blushing bride,” he tells her. “You can fuck me up the ass.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she says, but oh, she’s already planning her next purchase and imagining him bent over in front of the mirror, helplessly hard while she pounds carefully into him, a harness tight around her hips.

Yes, she thinks, yes yes yes. She makes herself get up and stumbles into the bathroom. Maybe one day she’ll talk him into a corset. Maybe one day she’ll make him go to work with the stockings under his suit trousers and the lace panties barely containing his dick as they sit through endless meetings in Skinner’s office. The possibilities are endless. She grins at her feral expression in the mirror. They’ll run wild together. It’s what she’s always wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mulder's underwear comes from [XDress](https://xdress.com/), which was BodyAware in the 1990s.


	3. Schoolgirl Outfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catholic school girl is a very ordinary fantasy, but Scully thinks that's kind of sweet.

She takes great pleasure in picking out the absolute plainest white cotton briefs and white cotton bra that the department store carries. They absolutely scream “good girl”: no lace, no frills, not even a tiny little bow at the front of the panties or between the cups of the bra. They’re like something her mother would have bought for her when Scully what a teenager, before she saved her babysitting money and bought herself underwear with cherries printed on it and a tiny bit of lace at the leg. That laundry scandal lasted until Missy went and bought herself something entirely lace and demanded that they be allowed to do their own laundry. Scully retired her white panties then, and only bought more when she was in med school and at Quantico and wanted something sensible she could bleach the morgue stench out of. She’s been upgrading her undergarments since: black doesn’t show blood as easily. This bra and panties are brightly blank, all innocence. Scully affectionately despises them as a reminder of all the years she’s left behind. But they’ll serve her current purposes very nicely. 

The short skirt is easy to find at one of the local alternative stores, along with white knee socks and a tie that matches the skirt. She already has a white button-up that’s a little too tight in her regular rotation. She lets herself into Mulder’s apartment with her key and waits for him, sitting on the edge of his table with her legs crossed. She might as well have her hair in pigtails and a sucker in her mouth. She went for a headband instead, and a little red lipstick. It’s so absurd that it verges on parody. Still, when Mulder comes in and sees her there, kicking her feet in their sensible flats (she drew the line at Mary Janes), he catches his breath and almost drops his groceries, and she doesn’t think it’s just because he didn’t expect her to be there. 

His apartment is the right place to be doing this. She’s ventured into the bad boy’s lair. He doesn’t get to ravish her in her virginal bed. She’d prefer to see her white sheets as an airy choice rather than a naive one. She’s going to fuck him on his ridiculous leather couch and she’s going to feel good about it. 

“Scully,” he says, sounding a little strangled.

“Mulder,” she retorts. She licks her lips and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He hefts the groceries in his arms. She can see the bulge in his pants. 

“I seem to recall you were a very good boy the other day,” she tells him, savoring the moment. She rubs her thighs together under the skirt that barely covers them. His eyes track the hem of her skirt as it rides up, as if it has far to go. “Put your orange juice away so you can fuck me.”

“How did you know I bought orange juice,” he mumbles as he goes into the kitchen.

“Special Agent Dana Scully,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Am I gonna get turned on every time you pull out your badge?” he asks, slotting orange juice and eggs into the fridge. 

“Don’t you already?” she asks, and he cuts his eyes toward her and away again. When the cold goods are stowed away, he comes toward her with a hunger in his eyes that has nothing to do with dinner. He slides his hands possessively up her thighs and lifts the hem of her skirt. He peeks under it and groans.

“Fuck,” he says.

“That’s the idea,” she tells him. He leans down and kisses her, his hands working her tie loose. He pops just enough of her shirt buttons that he’ll be able to see her bra once he leans away. She’s not surprised he can make that calculation without even looking. He picks her up off the table and she wraps her legs around his waist while he carries her to the couch. He sits down and she straddles him as he feels her up. It’s such a pedestrian fantasy, really. It’s almost sweet that this is what he’s into, when he could be so much more grim. 

“I want to eat you out,” he says, his voice shaky. She reaches down and pushes him lower. He wriggles onto his back, taking her with him. She climbs off him for a moment and stands next to the couch. She waits until he’s watching and then drags her hands up her thighs and hooks her thumbs into the high waistband of the cotton panties. She pushes them down slowly. 

“I know you wanted to take them off with your teeth,” she says.

“It’s fine,” he says, his eyes riveted to her as she slides the panties down her thighs. “I’m sure I’ll have other chances.”

“I’m sure you will,” she tells him. As soon as the panties hit the floor, he’s reaching for her, pulling her back onto the couch. She rides his face as his hands squeeze her ass. Her skirt is draped over his face, but she’s sure his eyes are closed, the closest he gets to worshipful. She lets him pray to her, his tongue working her smooth, her holy water soaking his chin. She doesn’t try to stifle her cries as she comes. She lets him hear every moment of her pleasure. He sucks at her clit and she shivers and shivers, more aftershock than orgasm, until she’s too shaky to hold herself up anymore. She slides down onto his chest and he sits up and flips her onto her back. He’s holding her wrists over her head with one hand, his other hand working his cock out of his pants and into her. She spreads her legs to bring him in deeper and the fire in his eyes kindles brighter.

“Would it help if I told you I’m skipping chapel right now?” she murmurs.

He laughs and groans all at once. “How many Hail Mulders are you gonna have to say for that transgression?”

“Oh, hundreds,” she tells him, and he grins and fucks her harder. She’s stretched out under him and stretched out around him and it might be a stereotypical fantasy, but that doesn’t make the reality of it less hot. She’s glad she’s not any of the Catholic school girls she’s sure he knew as a sad little rich boy, but she’s glad they can play with the idea. They’re right for each other, right now, and that’s beautiful, even when it involves dressing up. Maybe especially when it involves dressing up — there’s a playfulness to this kind of indulgence that she’s never had in a relationship before. 

He comes with a moan and a shudder and lets go of her wrists. She strokes his hair as he breathes hard into her cleavage. 

“Bless me, Scully, for I have sinned,” he mumbles against her skin.

“I thought I already blessed you,” she says.

He laughs. “That you did.” 

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” she asks.

He props his chin between her breasts. She cranes her head to catch his gaze: his eyes are so green and so warm, light through summer leaves.

“It is,” he says softly. 

Her stomach growls, saving her from saying anything. She’d declare her love if she didn’t feel like they’d said it all already, but she’s not sure this is the moment. Saved by her belly. Between her run this morning and her very recent exercise on this creaky leather couch, she’s ready for a hearty dinner.

“Chinese takeout?” Mulder suggests.

“I want lo mein and General Tso’s chicken,” she says.

“I’ll get you crab rangoons and the moon if that’s what you want,” he tells her.

She smiles at him. “Maybe next time.”


	4. Chapter 4

The panties that Scully buys him to wear to work are sleek red satin with lace insets at the hips. They look more comfortable than some of hers, and Mulder, well. Mulder looks absolutely fucking incredible in them. The first time he puts them on, Scully can't resist pushing him onto the bed, climbing on his lap, and rubbing against him until she's soaked through both their panties. She comes over and over, straddling his dick and then his lace-clad hip, before he growls, tugs his panties down and pushes hers to the side, and thrusts up into her. She can feel the tension of the elastic under her as he fucks her. It feels so goddamn good. She shrieks so loudly she's sure the neighbors hate her (more), but sex noises have got to be better than gunshots. 

Mulder comes with a yelp and collapses on the bed. Scully flops on top of him, all her muscles weak and trembling, her cunt throbbing. 

"Fuck," she says contemplatively. Mulder groans in agreement.

When they can move again, she shows him how to carefully hand wash his panties in the sink with Woolite and hang them to dry. 

"You're the one who got them all wet," he teases her, kneading the fabric in the soapy water. "You should wash them."

"You're the one who got them all sticky," she counters as he rinses them, and he drapes his panties over her towel rack and then presses her against the door and kisses her. He tugs at the tie to her robe and the knot comes loose, the robe falling open at her sides. She lets him pin her hands over her head and fuck her against the door, long slow thrusts that turn more and more urgent until the door is rattling in its frame with every stroke and Scully's crying out again. 

The panties, she decides, are an unmitigated success. She can't wait to see what other styles they have. At this rate, she won't be spending any money on sex toys. 

She makes him wear them to work on a day they're scheduled to be in a lot of meetings. She likes looking across the table at him, knowing there's red satin until the dark wool of his expensive trousers. She makes sure to drag him into the most crowded elevator, where she backs him into a corner and rubs her ass against him, pretending she's just shifting to avoid running into anyone else. By the time they get down to the basement, he's squirming.

"They're fine when I'm soft," he tells her once they're in the office. He's sitting behind his desk, trying to hide his crotch. "But there's, uh, a lot less room now."

She steps around the desk and reaches out boldly and unzips his pants. The head of his dick is peeking out from the waistband of the panties, his erection too bulky to be contained. Scully licks her lips and sinks to her knees and sucks him off right there in the middle of the office, the panties snugged around his balls. He tries to be quiet, bless him, and he tries not to muss up her hair, but doesn't really succeed at either. He's hissing her name, clutching and stroking at her hair, and then he comes, shuddering into her mouth, and she swallows him down and wipes her mouth delicately with the back of her hand before she gets up.

"Just wanted to make sure you could get through our 3 p.m.," she says. "I don't think Skinner's quite as accommodating as I am."

"You never know," he says, still breathing heavily. "But I like your accommodations better." He catches her by the wrist and pulls her close, easing his other hand up her skirt. "Should I return the favor?"

"And watch me fall asleep at my desk?" she jokes. 

"I could get you close," he offers. "You won't fall asleep if I don't let you come."

Her cunt clutches at the thought. "Put yourself away first," she tells him. 

"You don't want to see me popping out the edge again?" he teases, but he does up his pants with the hand that isn't slowly caressing the gusset of her panties.

"Oh, I do," she assures him. "But nobody else gets to."

"I like when you get jealous," he says, his fingers sliding up and down the swiftly dampening fabric between her legs. "Do you think I can make you beg?"

"I guess we'll see," she tells him. She almost wishes he hadn't zipped his pants, but the picture of his hard dick under the red satin and black lace is clear enough in her mind. Mulder's fingers move back and forth and back and forth until Scully is shifting impatiently against his palm.

"Calm down," he tells her with a wicked grin.

"Fuck you," she suggests, and he laughs.

"You'd definitely fall asleep on your desk," he tells her, but he finally hooks his fingers into her panties and touches her clit. Scully hisses through her teeth and spreads her legs as wide as her skirt will allow. It's not enough, but it's something. She pushes herself onto his fingers and he obligingly fucks her with them, stroking her clit with his thumb. Scully braces herself on his shoulders and manages not to move forward onto his lap and straddle his thigh until she sees stars. 

"Oh God," she says, and just like that, Mulder pulls his hand away. He gets up out of his chair, letting his whole body drag against hers, and goes to the lab area to wash his hands. Scully stands there, half-stunned, soaking wet and aching for his touch. 

"I thought you were going to beg," he says. "Guess I wasn't good enough."

Her brains are too scrambled to reply, which makes him chuckle. She goes and sits in her chair and resists the urge to rock back and forth until she comes. Slowly, the throbbing in her cunt subsides. By their 3 p.m. meeting with Skinner and the other bigwigs, she's just a little horny, but still frustrated. She takes it out on Mulder by slipping her foot out of her shoe and pushing her toes under the cuff of his pants. He repays her by bending her over the desk in the office and frotting against her until she's almost, almost coming, and then back off again. Her clit pounds angrily, the friction of her panties almost painful against her sensitive skin. 

"When we get home," she says slowly, and trails off.

"When we get home what?" he prompts.

"I am going to fuck your brains out," she says. "What brains you have left."

"Talk like that and I'll pop right out of my panties," Mulder tells her.

Scully whimpers.

"Half an hour until quitting time," Mulder tells her. 

She raises an eyebrow. "Whatever will we do to pass the time." Work is clearly out of the question. She wishes she cared more, but what the hell. The only good thing she's ever gotten out of this job is Mulder.

"I have an idea," he says, and spends the next thirty minutes with his hand in her panties, stroking her occasionally while they both pretend to read files and argue about the latest reports of strange happenings. She's so fucking on edge by the time they leave that she wants to just shove him into the back seat of her car, but the garage is surveilled, of course. She settles for pressing against him again in the elevator. He's so hard. She smirks at him, and he looks down at her with hunger in his eyes. 

She gets to her place before he does and strips off her clothes. When he comes in the door, she's in her bra and panties. She grabs him by the tie and walks to the couch, and Mulder, if nothing else, can take a fucking hint, because he scoops her onto her back, peels her panties off, and has his mouth around her clit before she even asks. 

"I thought you wanted me to beg," she gasps. 

"You will," he promises, and dives back in. 

And she does, goddamn him, because he takes her right to the edge, lips and tongue and fingers all working in beautiful harmony. She's writhing under him, nails digging into his back, when he just stops.

"Please," she gets out. "Don't stop."

"What was that?" he asks. His mouth is wet and red from the heat of her cunt. He looks fucking gorgeous.

"Mulder, please," she says, and then realizes she's begging.

"The prophecy is fulfilled," he says with a smug grin. She flips herself off her back and onto him with a snarl, almost tearing his clothes off. Soon he's down to his panties. His dick strains at the fabric. Scully pushes him onto the couch and practically flings herself into his lap. In a few strokes, she's gotten herself off, the ridge of his dick hot between her folds. She lets her head loll back, knowing he can't resist her breasts. He doesn't even try. He's palming her nipples as she regains her senses.

"If you ever fucking do that again," she starts.

"You'll come harder than you ever have in your life?" he suggests.

"Yes," she says. 

"Don't worry, baby," he says. "I wouldn't leave you high and dry. Not that you were dry in any sense of the word."

"Do you want me to fuck you?" she asks, shifting suggestively on his lap. "Or do you just want to sit there and look pretty?"

"I want to fuck you and look pretty," he tells her.

"Fuck me, then," she says, and he reaches down to take his dick in his hand. It was half out of his panties already. Scullly wasn't decorous in her need for release. She pushes herself up a little and is pleased to see the wet spot she left on the satin. Mulder wraps his fingers around his dick with praticed ease. He rubs himself between her folds, spreading her slickness everywhere, as if she weren't already wet what feels like halfway down her thighs. 

"The thing is," he says conversationally, "you're so fucking gorgeous when you're about to come, Scully. I love the look on your face. I just want to see it over and over."

"You're not going to fuck me, are you?" she says, pretending to be disappointed.

"Not yet," he says. 

"Nobody likes a tease, Mulder," she says.

"I don't know," he says thoughtfully, taking her nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard and releases her. "It kind of seems like you do." He rubs his dick against her again. Scully sighs and Mulder smirks at her. He guides her up to where he wants her. The head of his dick pushes against her entrance, just enough to stretch her. She wants to just sink down and take him in as deep as possible, but he won't let her. It's just the head of him, nudging like a promise, and his thumb flicking over her clit. In a few minutes, she's panting, her thighs trembling. 

"Gorgeous," he whispers, and that almost does it for her, but he lifts her off his lap with strong hands and sets her on her feet. She's almost woozy with desire. The fact that she's already come once doesn't seem to offset the five or six times she didn't come. She wants him so badly. She lets him see it, the bare need in her. She knows by the way his eyes darken that he loves this, loves the way they play with their power while remaining equals. 

"Go get on the bed," he tells her, and she wobbles her way into the bedroom and lies down. She lays herself out, a feast for his eyes. He struts in, his dick tucked back into the red panties, still straining against them. He's right, they're a little too small when he's as hard as this, but she likes that. It's satisfying to see that he wants her so much that he literally can't contain himself. 

"Turn over," he tells her, and she obediently rolls onto her belly. "Face the mirror." She shifts. He walks around the bed until he's behind her. "Spread your legs." 

She spreads them, leaving herself wide open for him. She watches him look at her in the mirror, the sudden hunger that crosses his face. He meets her eyes in the reflection and smiles. He lets her watch him slide the red panties slowly down his hips until they slip down his thighs out of her sight. He steps out of them - it's such a particular gesture she knows even though she can't see it - and kneels on the bed behind her. He leans over her and brushes her hair away from her ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he growls quietly, watching her in the mirror. "I've been waiting all day, pent up in those damn tight panties."

"Tight and wet," she points out. 

"Wet because of you," he reminds her. "Is that polite, to soak my panties?"

"Yes," she says brashly, and he grins at her, feral. "And I think Skinner was looking at your ass."

"I bet he was," he says. "Get me some all-lace ones. We'll really give them something to talk about." 

"I saw," she starts to say, but then he's pressing down on top of her, shifting until he can slide into her, and she groans and shoves her ass as far into the air as she can get in. And then he's in her, to the hilt in one thrust, fucking her deep and hard just like she's wanted all day. Just like she's wanted for years, if she's honest. His hand and hers both fumble for her clit and they touch her together as he shoves into her. His weight bears her down into the mattress and it's delicious. The pressure inside and outside her shuts down every thought in her brain, and there's only sensation: only Mulder, bucking into her, his teeth grazing the nape of her neck, his fingers pinching at her clit. She pushes against him as strongly as she can, keeping the angle just right, and fucking yes, yes, yes, she's going to come around him at last, all the promises he made earlier finally fulfilled. Pleasure fills her up almost to the bursting point, as hard and hot as Mulder's dick, and then she's coming so hard she sees stars. Her whole body shakes. She tries to hold herself steady, but Mulder's coming too, pounding into her, gritting out her name in a raspy voice. Scully lets go. Her cunt clutches hard around him and then she's gone, somewhere in space maybe, weightless and formless. 

She doesn't even know when he pulls out. She's somewhere else, beyond her body. She comes to still on her belly on the bed, her cheek pressed into the covers. Mulder's lying next to her, panting. 

"Worth the wait?" he asks.

"In every way," she assures him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mulder's [red panties](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-panties/products/mens-lace-panties?variant=16135327645790) are from XDress.


End file.
